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Tuesday, August 02, 2005

butterfly in the sky

Ah I hope you're ready for just another crumpled piece of blogcrap in the internet trashdom here. And I'm not even the incipient pages of a Booker prize winner (I just like those.), I'm a crumpled piece of a ninth-grader's paper on Animal Farm which is eventually going to be handed in anyway, creases all kind of smoothed out, the incoherent train of thought and lack of transitions shining like a little illogical constellation.

Anyways, just wanted to air my grievances of late, my dear readers (did Jane Austen ever feel this way? I think not.), about my utter inability to focus on anything, especially reading and oh, figuring out my future. Like, whatevs. It's not even that important in the grand scheme of things. But it is important in the world of me (that sounds like a björk song doesn't it? These parentheses are annoying. Bring me a dead swan!! I need new eveningwear in the world of meeeeeeeeeee followed by Icelandic lyrics.)

I've been trying to read Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul but it's been so on and off again, kind of like cool weather in the big apple, a snippet in the subway here, a snoppet at lunch hour, a spot right before bedtime when I'm not processing anything. And now I'm skimming, like the wateriest, weariest skim milk, because the book is overdue and it's on hold for somebody else at the library and who knows why that is stressing me out so much. And that's what I feel like right now in general. A snippet here, a snoppet there. And I'm overdue somewhere for something or on hold for something else. An illogical, icelandic constellation.

4 comments:

todd
said...

You have the most interesting blog ever - I really like your descriptive terms. And random Bjork snippets - where would we be without random Bjork snippets? Here, I'll try to write like you:I am posting a comment on a blog. Except it's more than a blog, it's an effervescent sense of yellow-background freedom, one that releases me from my burnt siena past...ok, so maybe not.

Toddamatodd - thanksamathanksRobyn - I'm buying a new crystal ball. It'll actually be made out of ICE CREAMMMM.WHC - I can't call you Foxes anymore. I think this changes everything. Lemme know how you like middlesexxx. I hope you are talking about the Eugenides novel and not a smutty magazine made in a new jersey county i call home.